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Monday, March 28, 2011

The ultimate haircut...almost

Going to the hairdresser, for me, is a lot like a kid going to Disneyland.

It's a place full of wonder and excitement, where I get to go on cool rides (the massaging recline chair), and enjoy refreshments I don't have to make myself (Nescafe Blend 43) accompanied by treats (a bickie).

I go in full of excitement, and leave relaxed and refreshed, thrilled even.

It's also a very rare occurrence, just like a trip to Disneyland, now that I have kids.

Don't got the money, don't got the time.

Which is a shitty thing, because it's now that I've had kids, that I really need the semi-regular visits to a Hairdresser more than ever.

So, today (today at the time of writing, but 2 weeks ago from the date of posting) I managed to find the time for a quick trip to the hairdresser.

I walked in, sighed, and sat down in my chair.  And that's where my bliss ended.

I couldn't understand a word the hairdresser said to me, thanks to her accent - only I didn't want to appear rude or insensitive, so instead I just smiled, nodded and pretended I was 100% with her.  Which makes it difficult to know when to say 'absolutely, yes', when to say 'hold off on the peroxide', and when to say 'no thanks I'll take the budget treatment, not the one in the specky bottle that costs the equivalent of a month's nappies".

My Hair Artiste then she spent half the appointment on her mobile phone - I'm just filled with confidence when someone holding the world's sharpest scissors, is cutting my hair with their head crooked on an angle to hold their mobile phone, using all their concentration to have a serious and indepth conversation in a foreign language.  So I couldn't even eavesdrop.  I should've just given Miss5 the scissors and let her do her mullet-loving best.

So anyway, enough with the whining.  I've gone from having a pyramid shaped semi-afro with zero shine;  to having shiny, salon perfect hair.  For a maximum of 24hrs until it reverts back to a semi-afro pyramid, but a shiny one for at least the next 6 weeks.

If only there was a gently breeze so I could skip down the road, swinging my shiny locks from side to side while grinning like a maniac.  Like they do on the ads.

If only there was a suitably cute boy I could flutter my eyelashes at and sashay my hair from side to side while smiling coyly.  Like they do on the ads.


I did come close to a cross between the two, sort of.

When I went to pick the twins up from Daycare post-salon, there were roadworks blocking the car park.  So I had to park on the other side of the road, at the shopping centre.  Summoning all my will power to not 'pop in for a quick shop' of a few hours duration, I headed in the other direction towards Daycare.

As I waited to cross the road, a buff type was laying cement (mercifully, without a shirt).

Shirtless Lovely : Hey, how's it going?

Me (after looking around to make sure he wasn't talking to someone else) : Hi. Err...good. Umm...thanks.  You?

I know, I totally have a way with words AND shirtless lovelies, right?!

Shirtless Lovely : Yeah, good (nodding and crunching of ab's at the same time).  So, had a good day?

Me (swallowing a bit of drool and almost choking on it) : Ahem, yep, great.  Ahh...you?

Shirtless Lovely : Can't complain, it's getting better (award winning smile).  Got any plans tonight?

Me (almost falling over my own jaw as it slams down onto the freshly laid cement) : Ahh...err...yes, I'm spending it with some people.

Some people being the feral 3some.  But I still wasn't sure if he was taking the piss or genuine, so I figured it was safest to just play along as if he was taking the piss.

Shirtless Lovely : Ahh, well that's a shame.

At this point we were interrupted by the podgy bloke holding the Stop/Go sign telling everyone it was ok to cross the road.  Thrilled he took the 5 seconds to stop examining his belly button under his horizontally challenged workshirt, to look up and actually ensure it was safe to cross, before going back to examining his midriff.

So I crossed, in a bit of a stupor, not quite sure what had just happened.

Flash forward 5 minutes.


I pass the cement truck, Shirtless Lovely smiles a bit.  Then Mstr2 pulls on my arm and comes into view as he tries to break free.

Smile disappears from Shirtless Lovely's face.

As I'm half way across the road, Miss2 is also in full view.

Shirtless Lovely's own jaw hits the freshly laid cement path.

He is shocked, repulsed, and completely freaked out.

I smirk as I walk past, and play it uber cool by throwing a casual "Enjoy your night" over my shoulder as I go by.

Well, it would've been uber cool, if I hadn't half tripped on the other side of the pavement and almost taken a dive.  But I'm pretty sure Shirtless Lovely didn't see that through his own embarrassment.

     What he saw go in....            And what he saw come out


For Shirtless Lovely, the grass was most definitely not greener on the other side


His co-workers were hysterical.  And I think it's only fair that I now rename him Shitless Lovely - since his shirtless self was scared shitless by the twin tornado, and no doubt, the image of a nice romantic dinner for the 4 of us in the Macca's playground.

Seriously, you would've thought I was Octomom coming at him for child support.  I think his boy bits receded inside his body a little bit.

Clearly my new hairdo was good, but not good enough to eclipse the twin tornado!

3 comments:

  1. bahahaha what a great story. Yeah suck it lol

    ReplyDelete
  2. thats friggin hilarious. also because i was there that day, didnt see it, but can imagine going from Shirtless Lovely to Shitless Wonder.

    ReplyDelete
  3. That's soooo funny. I'm sure all us parents that have spent time in solo-parenting land, can relate on some level! lololol

    Thanks for putting a smile on my face today :-)))

    Cheers
    Whims

    ReplyDelete

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